Unsurprising
by Misila
Summary: Yosano investigates something bigger than her and Chuuya ends up getting involved. It's not exactly unexpected, is it?


Although this story is an one-shot, I'd recommend reading the early fics I wrote for this ship, particularly _common goal_ and _One of these days_ , for a better understanding.

* * *

 _ **Unsurprising**_

.

There is something suspicious in the silence that persists after Chuuya climbs the last flight of stairs, when he reaches the fourth floor and his hand searches in his pocket. Not a noise comes from the other side of the door even as the keys jingle in the metal ring; his lips set in a thin line, a scowl carving creases between his eyebrows.

Under his clothes, the cold weight of a knife presses against his side when Chuuya steps inside and spots red shoes as he takes his own off, feet soundless against the floor as he creeps further along the hallway after closing the door behind him. Blue eyes narrow at the dim light coming from the living room, ears sharpening until he recognises a familiar breathing pattern coming from inside.

The intruder is sprawled on the black sofa, crossed legs dangling over the arm; the rest of her body is aligned with the floor, a gloved hand raised to hold a small book with purple covers above her face, the other resting on her stomach. Her black tie has slid to the side of her shirt; in a similar manner a lazy smile curves her lips when she turns her head to acknowledge Chuuya's presence.

"Hey," comes with a glint in her eyes that can't be entirely explained by the lamp standing next to the sofa.

Chuuya breathes out slowly. He is not surprised– not really. Despite his caution he has been expecting coming home to this since he threw the challenge at Yosano in the morning, and the situation both amuses and irritates him (and activates one hundred emergency mechanisms that have already been proved useless); he lets his gaze wander around the living room.

"Where's Syl?"

"So that's her name?" Yosano smirks. "She was with me a second ago."

Chuuya sighs, walks towards the counter that separates the living room and the kitchen and peeks behind it. Effectively, a familiar reddish head draws back from the bowl and turns around to face him as a darker tail wags around, white paws trotting until they land on Chuuya's hip.

"What a guard dog you are," he scolds, smiling despite the half-hearted reprimand as Syl rubs her head against his hand, craving contact. "And a dog in general… Now eating is more important than greeting me?" His pet only nibbles at his gloved fingers with her sharp teeth, without actually biting, only trying to make Chuuya caress her again. "Why are you here?" he adds as he complies, turning to Yosano, who is now sitting up and watching the scene.

She shrugs. "It looked to me as if you doubted I could find out where you live, of course I couldn't let you keep living a lie."

Chuuya huffs out a chuckle as he walks to the sofa and drops himself by Yosano's side, Syl following close to sit in front of them.

"Didn't Syl try to eat you?" he can't help but ask; he still remembers when his dog almost tore Akutagawa's arm off.

Yosano's eyes narrow as her smile softens, leaning a hand on the black cushion between them.

"Just like her owner, she's only threatening in appearance," she whispers practically on Chuuya's lips, hooking her index around the buckle of his tie to pull him close.

There is something wrong. In the lines around her mouth, patches of dullness among the brightness shining in her gaze. Chuuya tilts his head a bit, slightly bothered by that distraction because the kiss he aches for since he saw Yosano's high heels in the entrance is _right there_ but he knows he won't reach it until he figures out what is off.

But Yosano tears her gaze away first, shoulders slumping down and head lowering until Chuuya can't see her eyes anymore.

"Damn, I'm so not in the mood for this," she breathes out, her hand letting go of Chuuya's tie.

"Did you have a bad day?" he asks. The silence that precedes the question doesn't mean Chuuya didn't know what to do, but that he wasn't sure it was the best option. His fingers twitch with sudden need, arms painfully frozen in place when Yosano answers:

"At this rate I'll have a bad _week_." She shakes her head. "I really want to solve this case as soon as possible…"

Yosano sounds exhausted, and it reminds Chuuya of her tone when she's about to fall asleep and her words slur, only whatever weighs her down now is simultaneously heavier and less physical than that fuzzy sleepiness that sex leaves on her skin until sunrise.

But Chuuya knows she won't say anything else. And he's alright with it.

"Then, you came here only to prove you could figure out where I live?" He composes a tentative, lopsided smirk, hoping to change the topic. Yosano simply shrugs. "You're unbelievable."

She giggles, raising her head to meet Chuuya's gaze. She still looks upset, restless. "Sorry."

Unable to both stand the itch in his arms any longer but knowing he can't satisfy it, in the end Chuuya flicks Yosano on the nose.

"Well, now you're here, so you can walk Syl out while I make dinner."

The beginning of a complain starts forming in Yosano's throat –Chuuya can see mild annoyance in her eyes, in the single raised eyebrow–, but upon hearing the magic word the dog jumps on the sofa, licking and barking until the Agency doctor surrenders to Syl's charm.

Chuuya's lips curl into a small smile when they come back, even though he knows he probably won't get any kisses tonight.

Yosano looks calmer, now.

.

Dark rings hang from her eyes when she climbs the stairs until the office, and she is not sure who is to blame.

On one hand, there is nothing that justifies her lack of sleep, other than endless shifts and changes in her posture throughout the night; she left Chuuya's flat as soon as they finished dinner, claiming that she wasn't about to put up with him for nothing, because not even his presence was enough to distract her from the case for more than a few minutes.

On the other hand, part of Yosano still wonders, when her co-workers leave and she is left alone sitting at her desk at dusk, taking notes and trying to make sense of the damn case (it's not that it's _difficult_ ; but, even though she has investigated truly disgusting crimes before, she isn't desensitized to the darkest facet of human nature), if maybe, just maybe, she could have slept better had she accepted Chuuya's wordless offer, clear in his piercing blue eyes, to share his bed for one night.

She sighs into her hands, tries to focus. Somehow the favour of investigating her former classmate from University ended up becoming a new case that was assigned to her, as there is nobody in the Agency more capacitated than Yosano to tell accident and deliberate medical negligence apart. It turns out Fujiwara wasn't the only one who made money out of letting certain people die; Yosano has been investigating for only two days and she has counted over thirty deaths– and not all by such subtle means.

There is a cobweb that gets thicker and deeper the more she learns, that tangles not only civilians but also former criminals and government agents between its threads– and the only explanation for its survival despite their crimes, despite their business being a direct competition for the _Port Mafia_ , is that it's not a gifted organisation, and therefore it hasn't attracted either the Mafia or the Special Ability Department's attention.

At least there is something to pull at; with Tanizaki's help, they tapped a suspect's phone and now she knows how to stop a new murder. Yosano looks at the clock, gaze morphing into a glare as the hands lazily draw forward; it's not time yet, but she switches all the lights off and locks every door before leaving the office.

On her way to her destination she stops by Kunikida's home, knocks on the door to give him the keys back and thank him for the favour, since Yosano was apparently too sleep deprived to think of bringing her own in the morning.

"Yosano-san!" She raises a dark eyebrow when the one to greet her is Dazai, all smiles and apparent innocence that don't deceive her. "Kunikida-kun is taking a shower, but if you want to––"

"No, I have thinks to do," Yosano cuts him off, extending her arm to drop the keys on Dazai's expectant palm. A series of increasingly heavy footsteps precede an honestly hideous housecoat wrapping a wet, flustered Kunikida. At this point, Yosano's eyebrow is far lost beneath her fringe. "Good to see you're finally getting along."

"Getting––" Kunikida seems to trip over his own words, almost swallowing his tongue as he chooses to glare at Dazai instead. Yosano smiles for the first time today, bites the inside of her cheeks to stop the laughter threatening to overflow her lips. "He came uninvited," he finally manages, pointing at Dazai with his index like an angry child.

"How cruel," Dazai pouts, hanging the keychain on Kunikida's finger. "We're actually _bonding_ , like good colleagues," he tells Yosano in a mischievous whisper; he can't keep raising Kunikida's blood pressure, though, because Kunikida grabs his ear and pulls at it to bring Dazai further inside the building.

"Thank you for the keys," is the last thing Yosano hears before Kunikida slams the door shut.

She doesn't really understand why her friend gets so worked up, when she knows most of the things Dazai does and probably a couple of them he doesn't. But thinking about Dazai and Kunikida's chaotic relationship can wait, Yosano tells herself, quickening her pace as she approaches the harbour. She soon finds herself in the heart of the industrial complex in search of the spot she has memorised before, the one where she suspects the murder will take place.

The last rays of natural light die when three shots tear the air apart.

The first two ones are almost simultaneous; Yosano's back is already tense in anticipation when the third one reaches her ears, followed by a crack she can swear makes the ground tremble under her feet. Her heels echo with every stride as she runs between industrial units, heart in her throat when she arrives at the source of the sound, barely aware of the voices resounding in the silence.

She nearly trips over her own foot when she takes in the scene unfolding before her.

A black coat is draped over the dark silhouette's shoulders, a familiar hat crowning the head of someone Yosano doesn't need to turn around to recognise. The other two persons, on the other hand, do see her: a black haired teen whose face is half hidden behind a white mask, crouching beside a boy with red hair that hugs his left arm with gritted teeth and tries unsuccessfully to get up; Yosano notices the blood dripping on the ground, dark stains quickly dampening his sleeve.

And, behind Chuuya, between him and Yosano, lays someone she recognises immediately for entirely different reasons.

The Executive turns around, most likely prompted by Gin and Tachihara's alarmed expressions; there is something darker than black in his blue eyes for the moment it takes for his gaze lands on Yosano.

"The beach is in the opposite direction," he points out, a dangerous smile still dancing on his lips. "I hope this wasn't your doing," he adds, pointing at the man laying on the ground. Yosano realises then that he's completely still only due to the cold Chuuya's anger and ability radiate.

"If I wanted to take a Port Mafia Executive down I'd do it myself," Yosano hisses back.

Chuuya nods almost imperceptibly, turns his head towards his subordinates. "Gin, take Tachihara to the infirmary. If you see Hirotsu-san, tell him to wait for me; I have to talk to him."

Tachihara doesn't seem particularly fond of letting Gin carry him, but a grey glare and a knife to his throat prove to be quite convincing. He groans as Gin passes his good arm over his shoulders, complains at every step they take until they get out of sight.

Only then Chuuya looks at Yosano again.

"So?" he prompts.

"I knew your friend there –Arakawa– would come here," Yosano admits. Because well, keeping their relationship and their jobs separated is one thing, but this involves Chuuya. "There is a quite interesting organisation everyone in Yokohama seems to overlook, and they are pretty original in their ways to do their job."

"Oh?" Shoving his hands into his pockets, Chuuya takes several steps towards Yosano, but his feet halt when he's right over the unfortunate Arakawa, who starts shifting again. He freezes, though, when Chuuya's foot leans on his shoulder, even though the Executive isn't applying any pressure. "And who, may I ask, were you after?"

Arakawa breathes in deeply, eyes wide and unfocused as Chuuya pushes a little with controlled fury.

"What? I can't hear you. The cat got your tongue?" the Executive continues as he hovers over Arakawa, a smirk twisting his lips. "You will end up singing sonnets if I ask you to, so better make this easier for all of us."

Arakawa swallows down. "I– I– I was ordered to… to kill the Black Lizard Commanders w–without an ability."

Yosano sees it in Chuuya's nearly murderous gaze even before Arakawa's trembling grows more violent, but that doesn't make the _snap_ of bone breaking under a black shoe any less unpleasant. Yells fill the empty industrial complex, only dying down when Chuuya steps back and Arakawa curls on his side, hand reaching for the broken shoulder as desperate whimpers leave his lips.

"Well, then," Chuuya concludes, still with his hands in his pockets, "I'm taking you with me to have a talk somewhere more private."

"No, you aren't." Yosano takes two steps towards him. "That's _my_ suspect, Mafia Boy."

Chuuya raises an eyebrow. "That's the fool who tried to kill _my_ subordinate," he replies. His upper lip curls in disgust. "I didn't subdue and immobilise him as your early birthday present… But I guess we could share," he concedes.

Yosano bites back a reply. She is tired and Chuuya is partially right, anyway– and it's not like she doesn't have anything to work with; in the worst case she could simply ask Chuuya to tell her what Arakawa said.

She crouches down beside Arakawa– at this point he has practically lost consciousness and he doesn't resist when she takes his wallet, only letting a pained hiss when she runs a finger over his shoulder, feeling his broken clavicle. It's not nearly enough for her ability to act; and she doesn't really want to heal this man anyway.

"This will do," she mutters as she stands up, freezing when she finds Chuuya closer than expected– was he there before? "Guess tonight I'm not invited to walk your dog."

Chuuya shakes his head, chuckles quietly. "It'd be better if you spent that time sleeping," he advises.

It's strange, to hear that tinge of concern coming from the same person who is about to torture the miserable soul laying on the ground.

.

Tachihara's arm is immobilised in a sling when he walks into Chuuya's office at noon, perhaps a bit paler and tired than usual but otherwise apparently alright. After a polite bow he walks over to Chuuya's desk, hands him a considerably thick report.

"He has a loose tongue," Chuuya observes as he takes the document and flicks through the pages.

"He might be good with guns, but he is a coward," Tachihara grumbles, as if to himself. He flinches when he notices Chuuya's curious gaze on him, eyebrows raised in surprise. "I– I mean–– I…"

Chuuya can't supress a smile, makes a mental note to find a way to get Tachihara to stop being so damn tense around him. "You're right," he comments. "What did Arakawa talk about?"

"Basically everything Hirotsu-san asked." Tachihara looks aside, the fingers of his left hand twitching nervously. "The organisation he belongs to kills people by order with different methods… He didn't say who was so willing to pay to see Gin and me dead, though."

"He probably doesn't know," Chuuya mumbles. Arakawa proved loyalty isn't one of his strengths overnight. "How about their base?"

"It's all there." Tachihara points at the report with his good arm. "They rely on technology to supply the lack of ability users… Hirotsu-san is already preparing our men. We only need an order."

Chuuya nods slowly. "Good. It'll be tonight or tomorrow, most likely, and I'll bring some of my subordinates too–– getting rid of them should be easy." He searches Tachihara's golden gaze. "You should take a break, at least for a few days. Gunshot wounds hurt like hell," he adds, softly; he knows from experience.

Tachihara shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "I'll rest when this problem is solved."

After motioning for Tachihara to walk out of his office, as the young man closes the door behind him, Chuuya's gaze trails down to the report on his hands, thoughts drifting off again and getting to Yosano for the seventh time.

They are going to have a conflict of interests there.

.

After a conversation with an intern who has been working at different government departments for the last two years, it becomes clear to Yosano that she has stuck her nose into something _big_. The civil servers apparently involved are way too many to be called a few and there have been oddly convenient accidents that led to several promotions– Yosano isn't sure she really wants to know how high the plot reaches, how far those corrupts have come by killing their opponents.

At least, she muses, her investigation is backed by the Special Ability Department.

Her hand covers a yawn as Yosano heads back to the Agency at a quick pace; last night she didn't get much sleep either, glimpses of a deathly blackness plaguing her short-lived dreams until she gave up and watched reruns until dawn. She should do something about it, even though she doesn't particularly like the easiest solution.

Just when Yosano is mentally going through the medication available at the infirmary, her phone buzzes in her purse.

Yosano's eyebrows shoot up even before reading the name of the person calling; she reserves this particular melody for a single individual. Her steps come to a halt before a zebra passing as she brings the device to her ear.

"Before you ask, tonight I'm not walking your dog either," she snaps.

Chuuya clicks his tongue from the other side of the line. "It's a pity, with how lovely you sound today." His voice drips sarcasm. "But that's not the reason I called."

Yosano turns right after crossing the avenue, walking into a narrower, less crowded street to get to the Agency faster.

"Then what do you want?"

There is a short silence before Chuuya speaks again. "How is your investigation going?"

The corner of Yosano's mouth twitches upward in a lopsided grin.

"Are you telling me," she starts, suddenly amused, "that you got the long end of the stick and _still_ need help with Arakawa?"

"No." A gloved hand grips the phone tighter as her lower lip is caught between her teeth at the sudden lack of annoyance in Chuuya's voice, heartbeat growing louder when she realises uneasiness is what has replaced it. "I'm saying not even the Agency will get away with uncovering something this big."

 _That's nothing new_ , Yosano wants to reply. She has known she is venturing into the lion's den ever since she found out Fujiwara wasn't the only one killing people by order. Her head turns sharply when she sees movement on her right, a deep frown setting between her eyebrows upon looking at the two men undoubtedly approaching her.

And they aren't the only ones. Yosano narrows her eyes at the at least six people walking from different spots with apparent casualness, bites her lower lip.

 _Speak of the devil…_

"Good advice, Mafia Boy, but you're a bit late," she replies. "I'm going to be quite busy."

Chuuya's reply is cut off as Yosano hangs up, sliding the phone inside her purse and reaching for the bag where she keeps all sorts of bladed weapons.

But, when she knocks the first attacker unconscious and three more come out from their hideouts, she can tell the situation doesn't look good.

.

Chuuya stares at his phone for a long time after Yosano hangs up. He isn't worried, not exactly –being able to heal whenever she is on the verge of death is a quite useful ability–, but he doesn't wish for her to get in trouble, either.

Eventually walks out of his office and takes the lift up to the highest floor, knocks on Mori's office and walks inside when the Boss allows him to, careful not to step on the drawings scattered across the carpet or Elise herself. The girl offers Chuuya a blinding smile.

"What brings you here, Chuuya-kun?"

Chuuya tears his gaze off Elise, fixes it on his superior as he takes his hat off and presses it to his chest.

"I'd like to request permission to send the Black Lizard to raid that organisation's base."

Mori raises his eyebrows. "That would most likely bring trouble with the Government. Which doesn't entail much of a danger for us," he muses, "but would also destroy most chances to know who paid them to attack the Port Mafia."

"I don't plan to cause a bloodbath," Chuuya replies slowly. "Only to dismantle the organisation; besides, we will probably find that information is there, either in documents or by asking higher ranked members."

Chuuya doesn't add that he has his own ideas about who might be interested in taking his subordinates down like this, anyway. There aren't many people who have antagonised him and not died immediately.

Mori exhales slowly, nods after a long silence. "Permission granted."

The usual bow, a malicious smile and a short farewell precede Chuuya's exit.

He knows rushing his actions will most likely hinder and might even bring the Agency's investigation to a dead end, but the more Yosano sticks her nose in such turbid matters, the more danger she'll expose herself to. And Chuuya might not be concerned about her physical wellbeing, but the Government is a force to be reckoned with.

.

Dry blood glues ragged fabric to her skin, some thin streams still running over dark bruises to end up soaking her clothes or dripping steadily onto the stone floor beneath; a quick, shallow breathing echoes in the darkness, the cold wall her shoulder leans on sending shivers down her aching back.

Tired eyes flutter open, look around in confusion; there is no trace of any presence other than her in the room, even though her last memory is that of a metal bar striking her side, breaking a couple of ribs.

Yosano doesn't think she has been unconscious for long, though; the searing pain coursing through her veins is still fresh. But she can't tell how long she has been in that dark room for; without any reference it could range from hours to days. All she can keep track of is the times she has used her ability since she was restrained and kidnapped in her way to the Agency.

The memory tightens her jaw, a soundless whimper stuck in her throat at the agony the movement brings. Yosano feels stupid even though she recalls at least twenty people were sent to deal with her; now all she can do is keeping herself alive and wait until her co-workers notice her absence and send someone to get her out.

At least, she muses, slightly relieved when her fingers twitch slightly, she can still punch someone in the face if it's necessary; but as long as her injuries aren't fatal, there is little she can do except for enduring the pain.

Yosano closes her eyes again, absent-mindedly licks the stream of blood that makes a pause over her lips. She has already been on the verge of death three times; her captors seem to have taken her ability as a challenge and as much as she would like to tear their limbs off the chances are too scarce. Which doesn't mean she isn't willing to try again– as soon as they come back. She isn't really curious about where they have run off to, not more than she is about the thuds and yells coming from something not very far, but worsening her state is the fastest way to get back on her feet and attempt to escape again… no, to _escape_. No attempts.

She winces when the door creaks open, teary eyes blinking up at the bright light illuminating the room. She recognises one of the men from earlier that quickly approaches the corner she's curled up in, disgust curling her upper lip at the sight. She barely blinks at the gun he points at her head, barrel pressed against her fringe.

"This is it," the man snarls, voice trembling more than his hand. "I don't know how your friends found this place, but I won't let you tell them anything."

 _That was quick_ , Yosano thinks.

She is too tired to reason the bullet will probably get through her brain too quickly for her ability to be of any use; it's a cold fear what clings to her heart instead. Her head weighs like lead, her shoulders burn at the mere thought of raising her arms.

"Any last words?" the man pathetically tries to taunt. Yosano doesn't bother to reply, annoyance creeping up her spine. Dying at the hand of such a swine is about the most underwhelming way to go she could have ever thought of. "A quiet woman, I see––"

Cold air whistles as something tears it apart, the gun falling before Yosano's astounded expression. She raises her head, mouth falling open at the sight of the man's hand pinned to the wall by a knife that pierces through his wrist.

"I was curious when I saw you run off alone." Yosano's gaze drifts to the entrance; her attacker's screams muffle the black shoes advancing towards the pair. Chuuya points at his knife, smirks up at the man trying to pull it out of the wall between agonic shrieks. "Would you mind giving that back? I'm fond of it."

Without further ado he pulls at the knife, kicks the man aside. His broad back sinks into the wall, despite the apparent disinterest in the gesture.

Yosano would like to smile, but an offended frown sets between her eyebrows.

"He called you _friends_ ," she grumbles as Chuuya crouches down before her, glaring into worried eyes. "He… Did he think I belong to the Mafia?"

"To be fair, you'd make a great member," he replies quietly, brushing her cheek with gloved fingers. "Can you stand?"

Yosano's gaze drifts to her legs. "I can try."

It turns out trying is the best Yosano can do at the moment; she slumps into Chuuya's arms the moment he lifts her on her feet, the room spinning at the movement.

"I can lend you a hand," Chuuya offers, sliding an arm behind his knees, the other wrapped around her back. Yosano closes her eyes in an attempt to get rid of her dizziness when they start moving, stomach twisting. "You could have mentioned your plan for tonight was getting kidnapped and beaten up," he comments.

Yosano can tell, from the tremor running through Chuuya's arms, that he is trying to not worry– or at least to conceal it; she has scolded him so many times for apologising over the bruises his ability leaves all over her he doesn't seem willing to test the waters again.

She leans her head on Chuuya's shoulder, tries to swallow a nausea that isn't entirely caused by the beating.

"They were quite insistent guys, you see," she whispers, voice a bit raspy. "They wouldn't get the hint even after I knocked the twelfth one out."

Chuuya doesn't laugh.

Yosano opens her eyes cautiously, scrunches her nose up at the blinding whiteness of the hallways Chuuya seems to glide through; she catches glimpses of Mafia members, but if they see her in an Executive's arms they don't make any remark about it. Her gaze drifts up to Chuuya; his expression is alarmingly close to _enraged_ , eyes narrowed and lips pursed together as fiery curls bounce against his cheeks.

"What about this?" Yosano finds herself asking quietly. Chuuya's fury vanishes as he looks at her for a second, replaced by an enquiring gaze. "I'm still a member of the Agency."

Chuuya shrugs. The gesture tears a pained groan off Yosano's throat.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Officially we aren't on bad terms at the moment, so it's alright."

Yosano closes her eyes again, buries her face in the side of Chuuya's neck when they climb down a flight of stairs.

"I might throw up all over your expensive coat," she slurs, because warning him beforehand seems like the correct thing to do. This time Chuuya does chuckle, pressing Yosano closer to his chest. Her slight tremor grows when cold wind cuts her skin, but Yosano doesn't dare open her eyes again to make sure they are outside the building. "Mafia Boy?"

"Hm?"

"How long have I been there?"

Chuuya's steps come to a halt.

"Six hours or so, or at least that's how long it's been since I called you." His lips brush Yosano's hair. "Hey, pay attention for a second."

Yosano blinks at the car before them; it takes her some seconds before recognising it as Chuuya's. Holding her with only one arm in a way that wouldn't be possible if it weren't for his ability, he opens the back door, leaves Yosano inside with cautious gentleness.

"Where are we going?"

"I have to coordinate my men inside." Chuuya points to the building behind him with his thumb, a knee leaning on the seat. "You are free to leave, though." He giggles at Yosano's glare. "Sorry, sorry."

Yosano wraps her arms around her shivering frame. "Just close the door already, I'm freezing."

Her eyes widen when Chuuya takes his coat off his shoulders and covers her with it, hovering over her and meeting her surprised gaze with uneasy blue.

"I'll be back in a second," he whispers, and Yosano can only close her eyes when a kiss lands on her forehead, warmer than the black coat she's wrapped in.

.

It turns out there isn't much for Chuuya to do inside the building; non-gifted people are hardly a problem for his men, and the Black Lizard and Hirotsu himself is already taking care of the most problematic hostages; it's only when Tachihara informs him about the man with a wrecked wrist they have found in a small room that Chuuya tenses, cold anger seeping into his bones as two subordinates bring him before the Executive.

"Do what you want with him," he snarls as he turns around, because even though the plan doesn't include taking any life the temptation to pierce his heart is almost too great.

"Chuuya-kun." Hirotsu's voice halts the first step Chuuya takes towards the exit. "What are you going to do with the detective?"

Chuuya shrugs, shoulders stiff. "Apparently she was investigating on her own when she was captured; she has nothing to do with them. I'll give her back, I guess."

He doesn't turn to face Hirotsu; unlike most members of the Mafia, Chuuya has never quite mastered the art of concealing his emotions and masks don't suit him, and the Black Lizard Commander has known him for too long to be deceived so easily.

He waits until his subordinates have left the place before approaching his car. Yosano is curled up in the rear seat, apparently asleep; when Chuuya opens the door and slides inside, though, he finds her eyes open and fixed on him.

"Where do you want to go?"

Yosano blinks, looks aside. Her face is stained with rivulets of blood and patches of dirt and it occurs to Chuuya that he doesn't know how serious her wounds are.

"I don't mind…" she mutters. She tries to get her arms out of Chuuya's coat, stops with a grimace and an exasperated huff; in the ends she settles for leaning her head on his shoulder. "Can you do me a favour?"

Chuuya circles her back with an arm.

"What is it?" He giggles when he feels Yosano's hands roam across his torso. "Hey, you're hurt and filthy, _not that_ ," he grunts, only half joking.

"I'm––" A hand comes to rest on Chuuya's side, where his knife presses against his ribs. "I can't heal myself like this," Yosano whispers.

Her words sound strangely loud in the dark car.

"You're not…"

"I need you to hurt me further."

Goosebumps raise the hairs on Chuuya's arms, air suddenly too thick to breathe it in. His eyes widen as he looks down to meet Yosano's determined gaze; her expression wavers, though, upon taking in the horror that must be drawn on Chuuya's features.

"That… I–– I can't…" he stammers.

"You _can_ ," Yosano contradicts him quietly. Her hand closes into a fist against Chuuya's vest. "You just proved it back there, you're quite good at it."

Chuuya shakes his head, lip trembling.

"But I don't want to," he exhales, and it takes him every ounce of willpower to breathe in again. It's not about how lethal he can be.

 _Don't make me do that._

Yosano sighs, the violet in her eyes hardening. "I know it sounds strange, but I have too many things to do to spend the next two months healing normally," she reasons. She is right and what she says is perfectly logical and she sounds calm and composed and Chuuya hates everything about it. "You would actually make it better."

The tremor that vibrates through Chuuya's skin is almost painful, his voice pleading when he finds it again.

"I don't want to," he repeats, and he doesn't mind sounding like a stubborn child. His hand finds Yosano's fist, idly wonders where her gloves have gone as their fingers intertwine. _Not you_.

"Please."

And in the split second of silence that follows her quiet insistence, Chuuya despises everything about this woman, all that makes her able to break through every caution, every determination, and do with him whatever she pleases. He regrets every night he has spent with her, every word that has ever lived between them, every time he smiled at her when neither of them noticed; because that power has never been born in Yosano– that's something Chuuya gave her little by little, not wanting to see what he was doing until– until––

Until now.

His shoulders slump as he tears his gaze off her.

"I hate you." The words hurt his dry throat. "More than I thought I could hate anyone."

Yosano huffs out a humourless laughter.

"You have broken quite a few records for me, too."

As he helps Yosano to sit on his lap, as he takes his knife out, an unexpectedly resentful _now we're even_ is all he can think of. He raises his arm, observes the light shining in the silver blade– he tries to pretend he is only examining it, but his hand trembles too much to give him the comfort of an illusion.

Chuuya bites his lower lip, looks at Yosano again. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, but her expression is not as sad as it is angry.

Yosano's arm shakes, too, when she raises it, when her hand reaches for Chuuya's. Yet, somehow, when her fingers wrap around his wrist, when her thumb presses against his accelerated heartbeat, the grip around the knife steadies.

The whole world is quiet as the two of them breathe in deeply in unison.

Then Chuuya sinks the knife into Yosano's chest.

She yells. Not a long, agonic scream or a whimper that dissolves into a sob; it's a violent gasp as her whole body tenses in Chuuya's arms, nails digging into his wrist until they draw blood. The world grows blurry as Chuuya draws the knife back, her eyes tightly shut in pain all his mind can register before he gives up and closes his eyes.

He doesn't dare open them when he perceives a faint glow through his lids, or when the other breathing inside the car slows down to a normal pace even though his own seems made of incoherent noises and his chest feels like he's crying despite his eyes being dry. Only when the grip on his wrist loosens does Chuuya look around to find a tender smile lighting up tired eyes.

"You _really_ are too soft for a Mafia Executive," Yosano comments, letting go of Chuuya's forearm to caress his cheek. "See? I'm alright now–– hey!"

Chuuya doesn't know whether he can bring Yosano any closer, but as his arms tighten around her back, as he burrows his face into her shoulder, he's willing to try. He's shaking violently now, shudder after shudder as Yosano tentatively hugs him back.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, voice breaking. "I'm so, so sorry– I didn't… I don't–– I never want to hurt you… I'm sorry…"

He barely registers his hat falls when Yosano's fingers thread through his hair.

"It's alright," she whispers. "I asked you to, it's fine." A kiss brushes Chuuya's temple. "Thank you."

It takes Chuuya a while to let go of her.

.

The sun is high when Yosano awakens, filtering through an unfamiliar window.

Upon looking at the clock on the bedside table, she guesses she has spent the last fourteen hours sleeping; she stretches her arms over her head, a calm satisfaction washing over her at the pleasant feeling of having rested after several sleepless nights. Her ability comes handy at times, but nothing can replace actual sleep.

She looks at her naked feet as she stands up, an amused huff leaving her lips at the hem of the borrowed track pants brushing her ankles. It's not like there were many options, though; yesterday's adventure rendered her own clothes useless.

Yosano drags her feet towards the living room, looking for the presence she missed laying next to her. Chuuya is sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, hair dishevelled framing his pale face and eyes dull as he reads something in his phone, his other hand absentmindedly petting Syl.

The dog's head perks up when she notices Yosano, jumps to the floor to trot towards her. Yosano crouches down to scratch Syl behind her ears, smiling at the dog's attempts to lick her face.

Chuuya looks up from his phone for a second, almost uninterested. "Good morning."

He looks deflated, which compared to last night –when all he did after they entered his flat was ordering a very sleepy Yosano around so she took a shower and put some clean clothes on because _you're not getting in my bed like that_ – is almost welcome.

Only it's not.

"Too busy ordering the execution of that organisation?" she teases, sitting down next to him.

"We aren't going to kill them," Chuuya mumbles. "Only to dismantle them and get as much information as we can. Which means," he adds, "that your business with them is over. Your corrupt civil servants have nobody to dirty their hands for them anymore."

Yosano lets out a sigh.

"And I guess that's the reason you haven't slept a wink."

Chuuya flinches almost imperceptibly. "No," he admits quietly.

Violet eyes focus on the slight shivers shaking Chuuya's shoulders. Yosano's stomach tightens at the memory of holding them in her arms.

"Chuuya," she calls softly, waits until he reluctantly raises his gaze to meet hers, "I'm sorry." She doesn't pay attention to his visible surprise. "I forced you to do something you didn't want to… Sorry."

Chuuya lowers his phone, fingers curling around the device.

"It's fine," he replies, voice oddly light. "It was for the best and now you're alright, so…" He trails off, shrugs and looks away.

He seems to have memorised that sentence, to have repeated it over and over and clung to it for a nonexistent comfort. Yosano reaches out to brush his cheek.

"That doesn't make it alright."

Chuuya's jaw tenses. He grabs Yosano's hand, lowers their intertwined fingers as his gaze finds hers again.

"I just don't want to do that again." Chuuya looks surprised at his own confession, but he doesn't stop. "So don't get yourself hurt, you careless idiot." He sounds angry and resentful and probably concerned despite himself.

And Yosano can only laugh. The sound bubbles out between her lips, prompting an offended expression on Chuuya's face that soon turns into amusement as his grip on her hand tightens.

This isn't a surprise, not exactly; Yosano has known for weeks that one day she wouldn't be able to keep denying any of the unwanted feelings that came with this nonsensical relationship, that they reached a point of no return long ago. It exploded in their faces last night, and now there are only two possible options.

The first one is something Yosano already tried, in the weeks following that disastrous night her colleagues caught Chuuya and her red handed. It didn't work.

"I'll try," she whispers, leaning forward to catch Chuuya's lower lip between hers. It tastes like a small, hopeful smile.

All they have left is, then, struggling to make this work.

* * *

 _Author's notes_ : Hey, it's me, one of the five people in the world who like this ship.

Thoughts? Comments? Rocks? (please don't throw rocks)


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